To See You Walk Away
by VulcanCheesecake
Summary: "I thought I needed you Erik. I thought it would all be fine again if I had you back, the love of my life, but it isn't, it just hurts further. There was a reason I hid, I told you that. Your begging will not sway me, not now I have seen you once more"


Four years. Four years had passed since Erik had last seen his beloved Charles. Friends they had been. Brothers, maybe. But now Charles was dead, Erik was sure of that. He'd know if Charles was alive; there was no way he'd be able to resist contacting Erik.

But it wasn't like Charles was gone from memory. It would be so much _easier _if he was. Erik dreamt of him often. Some nights he woke up, bathed in sweat because the dreams were sometimes so real, so clear. He often dreamt of the awful moment the bullet he deflected hit Charles. That was always in perfect clarity. Innocent men weren't meant to be hurt, were never meant to die. But that was war and he had been prepared for it.

He just never thought he'd be capable of hurting his X.

But some nights, more hazy, dream-memories of a darkened room draped in red velvet; Charles' room, the one he'd chosen himself. In those dreams Erik saw the decor more clearly than anything else, remembering thoughts he had had at the time. _"This room is Charles; sophisticated, charming." _It was a laughable idea, and they had both laughed at it.

But in these dream rooms there would be the dreams. Blurred, fuzzy, like real dreams, not memories. Drinking, chess, shy looks from Charles at first that lingered just a little too long. Touches that lasted. A hand on Erik's shoulder that stayed there for minutes, which turned into arms around him, which turned into falling asleep on the sofa - red velvet to match the curtains.

Which ended with Charles waking up against Erik and moving closer into his chest rather than away in disgust. An unspoken agreement as to where he would sleep from then on.

But those memories were distant. They never showed themselves clearly and Erik tried to forget them. They clouded his judgement, made him begin to lose his grip on Magneto. Sometimes he wished it could go back to Charles and Erik. Just Charles and Erik and what they could have had.

He hated to admit the telepath had been right. Killing Shaw hadn't changed anything but the future.

Charles knew where Erik was by seeing through those near him but never through Erik. Erik would know straight away that it was him and he couldn't have that. He couldn't completely cut himself off from Erik, but things could never be the way they had.

He was always careful to time himself, so Erik was asleep. He'd just think they were dreams, Charles wanted it that way. He sat, day after day (night after night for Erik) staring out the window across his grounds, the ones they'd run across together, the ones endless teenagers ran across now, remembering and making Erik remember with him.

He hated that the pain was always the clearest. He knew he had all the memories of everything else, his brain just blocked them out so he didn't think too hard on the man who'd left him behind. It just made it hard to see them when he wanted to.

He knew Erik had them too, but if he tried to get them out, Erik would realise it wasn't a dream. He was very familiar with Charles. So Charles sat in his study, remembering.

He tried this time, harder than ever, to remember something that wasn't agonising. He got so lost in it that he didn't notice night falling; the sun rising for who he was sharing with.

Erik woke with a start as the sun came up, and realised immediately, with the reflexes of mind he'd taught himself to keep on his guard against telepaths, that his dream had not dissipated. It was still running through his mind, getting a little clearer, a little closer. He saw Charles' face in the light of the candles that brightened the room, tilted upwards, close to his, but his eyes were dull; Erik could not see the exact aquamarine he knew they had been. Charles' lips held no blush of pink. His skin was too stark, his hair blurred into the darkness.

This was no dream. This was someone trying hard and almost succeeding to remember. Erik's heart beat furiously as his mind cried out the word his lips silently formed, in protest, in joy, in pain. _"Charles." _

The professor's eyes snapped open as he heard clearly, even across the thousands of miles that kept them apart, the voice. He had known this would happen one day, he'd get too involved, he'd misjudge. There was no point in lying now. _"Erik."_

_"I thought you were dead. That the bullet had killed you. "_

_"No, my friend. Very much alive, but hiding. I'm afraid what you said had some little truth. Anonymity does appear to be our best defence."_

_"Come with me, then. Come and see me. Charles I can't stand it, I couldn't stand thinking you were dead and I can't stand knowing you're alive and not being able to see it for myself."_

_"I can't."_

_"Why? I'm not looking for another fight. Really. I need to see you, if only to say goodbye properly."_

_"I just can't, Erik." _ Charles hung his head at that, knowing whose fault it was he couldn't.

"_Then let me see you. Where are you?"_

_"Erik..." _Charles began but couldn't think how to say anything. He'd thought about this, but never properly. "_I don't think it's a good idea."_

_"Don't you trust me, my friend?"_

_"I'd trust Erik Lensherr with my life, but I cannot trust Magneto." _The truth was unexpected, but Charles meant it. Erik was silent for a long time.

_"I am, and have always been Erik Lensherr. And for you, I always will be." _Erik couldn't hide from Charles. The telepath could lie through a mind link because he was skilled, but Erik, as just the receptor, could not. Charles felt Erik's emotion on top of his own; so much longing that his heart almost tore in two.

"_Very well, my friend. You know I..." _he stopped himself thinking the words he had said only once before, getting instead to the point _"You know where we are. But you must not tell another soul, not even another mutant, for the sake of the children we teach here."_

_"I won't, Charles. I am not coming to you as Magneto. I want to see you, not fight for what we disagree on."_

_"When will you be here?" _Charles was anxious now, almost desperate to see Erik after so long.

"_Tomorrow night."_

And he was gone.

Charles sat in the position he had a habit of keeping, staring out further, trying to see Erik though he knew he would not be there for hours. He didn't sleep, he didn't eat, he just tried to remember. He didn't even know if Erik would really come and he would not call out to his mind. He wouldn't sink to that level again. They would talk like adults or not at all.

Eventually near dusk Erik was striding across the grounds, so sure of himself even after all this time. Charles knew he had seen him sitting in the window, and looked down at his knees so he wouldn't have to face what he'd been trying to hide from.

The knock came on his study door louder than it should have been.

"Yes." The word was simple, impersonal, but Charles had to keep it that way. He couldn't give in to Erik.

"My friend." Erik too could not think what to say after so long. He could barely believe the man he thought to be dead was sitting across from him, close enough to touch.

"Erik." Charles acknowledged but did not yet turn to look at the man who had abandoned him. He didn't have to when Erik came to stand beside him, looking out across the expanse of grass.

"Will you not stand to greet me?"

The question hung in the air, Charles' hands balling into fists in his lap and his back straightening as far as it would allow, head held stiffly high. "My friend, simply take a look at me. It seems you are not so observant as you once were." Charles pressed his lips together firmly, so he would not give himself away, though the truth was it still hurt to be seen this way.

He waited until Erik had been staring at his cursed wheelchair for some time, before saying a little too harshly  
>"Leave again now. I can't be the man you knew before." His eyes were fixed still on his knees and for a long time Erik was silent, which made Charles screw his eyes shut.<p>

He opened them again when he felt a weight against his hands, to see Erik kneeling before him, head bowed into his lap.  
>"For a long time I have not been the man <em>you <em>knew," he whispered. "Forgive me, Charles. I'm sorry I did this to you. I'm sorry."

And then Erik's shoulders were shaking with grief and Charles could only think enough to run slender, graceful fingers through hair longer than he had last seen. He couldn't tell Erik it had not been his fault, though.  
>"Four years, Erik. Why didn't you try to find me? You know I'd have heard you, had you called."<p>

"Why did you not tell me you were alive? I thought I'd killed you. For a long time I did nothing because I was dealing with that."

Charles paused, glad to hear it though he knew he shouldn't be.  
>"If that was the only way I had to stop you turning into the person I hate then I had to use it." He quickly shut his mind to the thought that he was glad it was him who'd been making Erik suffer. And Erik, damn him, understood.<p>

"We are still equals, you and I. I'll stay with you, Charles. I'll take care of you, I promise." He raised himself on his knees a little to run hands, a little bigger than Charles' own across his cheeks, as if reassuring himself the telepath really was alive.

"I have no further need of your _promises _my friend. I am quite capable. By myself."  
>No matter what Erik said, they were not equals and never would be. The scared little boy in Charles wanted Erik to take him again in his arms and rock him, but the dignified, independent professor, the adult who had been utterly betrayed and left alone won over and he found himself unable to stand Erik's touch, even after so long, and so much longing. He wheeled himself back and struggled to put it properly into words.<p>

"Does it not seem to you, my friend, that for a long time we believe we truly want something we have a burning desire for it, we _need _it. Yet when we obtain it we find it is completely wrong and it is not in fact what we wanted at all?" It was not a question, it was not to be answered.

Erik stepped up to it anyway, taking it as meekly as Erik Lensherr ever took anything.

"Perhaps for some, perhaps the man who discovers he wants for nothing did not really want what he thought he did. But what about the man who had nothing? The only purpose he served was to try and obtain something, particularly that which he needs, or wants so very desperately. And when he gets what he has searched for, he is complete."  
>They fought now in riddle, indirectly. It was cowardly and they both knew it.<p>

"What then of the woman who searches for her perfect man to find him married? Or the child whose father beats them and whose mother remarries. At first it is wonderful, yet this stepfather is twice as cruel."  
>Minutes of silence passed before Charles rephrased personally.<br>"I thought I needed you Erik. I thought it would all be just fine again if I had you back, the love of my life, but it isn't, it just hurts me further. There was a reason I hid, I told you that. Your begging will not sway me, not now I have seen you once more." 

"Charles, please. I am remorseful, I'm _sorry. _It...it _kills_ me to see you walk away-"

"I'm not doing a terrible amount of _walking _these days. And who is to blame for that? I gave you chance after chance to stop this. I _begged _you to, Erik. If it was really that painful to watch me turn away from what we were, you wouldn't have done so."

A knock on Charles' study door told them they were no longer alone, and the telepath was glad of it, dangerously close to losing his grip on control. He hadn't even uttered an invitation when Howard walked in with two cups of tea, smiling ever so politely and good-naturedly when he handed Charles a cup and saw Erik.

"I'm sorry I didn't make you one. Charlie didn't say he was having a visitor." The metal bender himself stood up, making to leave before Charles stopped him with a thought.

_"He has been here. You have not. Sit down."  
><em>"Howard, would you leave me with my friend a few more minutes? We haven't seen each other for four years now. We won't be long."

He smiled though it was strained and Howard Stark, the man who had become somewhat of a regular around the school, not a professor as such but always eager to show off his plans and designs to upgrade training exercises kissed the telepath's cheek briefly in form of comfort and wandered from the room with another grin.

"Charles what is _this?"  
><em>Erik was angered, his voice low and dangerous. Charles himself sat a little straighter, looking the other directly in the eye and stating plainly and clearly, leaving no room for argument .

"You left me, crippled and dying on a godforsaken beach. I begged you several times before then and at that moment not to leave me. You cannot come back after four years and be angry at me for having somebody else. You had you chance. Damn it Erik, I loved you! I miss you so _much _but you ruined it. Howard cares for me more than himself and he always has. I never got equality and dedication from you and I need those. Go now and leave me, friend. Be with your own band of rag tag 'brotherhood'."

Anger rippled the room – literally – such as Charles had never seen it. Shaw had once, in Auschwitz. The kind of anger that came when you tore a small boy from his mother forever – or a man from his lover. Steel window frames bent and glass shattered over them both, chairs warped and collapsed, door knobs all the way down the corridor tore in two as if they had been nothing but a ball of paper.

And somewhere in it all the man causing it disappeared. Curious faces peered out at the man running across the grounds, and if Howard returned to the man who was _his _lover now to find his eyes too shiny bright, the light reflecting the tracks down his cheeks, he didn't ask why when giving only what was needed of him.

Erik now had passed like a storm over Charles and he felt freer for his tears, wiping his eyes after a few moments and sighing, taking Howard's hand gratefully.


End file.
